


The Throneroom

by brahe



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, M/M, There is no Happy Ending Here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur reminisces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Throneroom

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically all angst. Sorry (not sorry).

He had made this walk countless times, enough that he could easily do it with his eyes closed.

  
The old wooden doors opened with a creak that had slowly grown more pronounced over the past few years. Arthur allowed himself a small, ironic smile; the doors seemed to age with him. He stepped across the threshold and began the walk after a short pause. He held himself like a king, like he used to carry himself all the time: head up, shoulders back, chest forward, stoic face.

  
The only light in the room came from the windows on the eastern side. The cold winter light poured into the room in broken streams, illuminating only pieces of the hall, leaving most of it shrouded in grayish darkness. The room felt cold, as it almost always did, only this time it was not just temperature, but a deeper, emotional cold that came along with remembering.

 

Arthur's cape flowed majestically behind him, combining with the faint sunlight to create dancing shadows that followed him across the floor.He didn't remember the walk ever being this long, but he supposed that's just because he hadn't made it in a long time. Underneath all that, he knew it was just because he hadn't made the walk while feeling so alone.

 

Only once did he let his mind go while walking, and that was to remember the time when this room used to shine like gold with or without the sun, when laughter reverberated off the walls until the early hours of the morning and drinks and food flowed freely until it was impossible to take another sip or eat another bite, when it was full of people and smiles and friends. The time when they were all too young to foresee the end.

  
The hardest part of all this was facing the destination. The lone chair sat almost regally, slightly in front of and centered on the far wall. The smaller throne that used to reside next to it had long since been removed, as all it did was rip another hole in Arthur's already crumbling heart. At that moment, he felt he could relate to the remaining seat; cold as stone and left alone.

   
He stopped within arm's reach of the chair and looked at it for a moment. He used to make this walk with pride and joy, now he travelled it with only sadness.   
He tried, but after a minute it was just too much. He fell to his knees in front of the throne and hung his head low. He thought briefly of what his father would think of such a motion and huffed a sort of laugh for a second. How he would love to see the look on his face.

  
The images of his father's face faded into memories of Morgana. No matter what anyone said, he would still carry the guilt of her demise. He will always feel as though there was something he could've, should've done.

  
The memory of his half sister morphed into one of his knights, his friends. The guilt that lie in those images was more than any one person should ever have. They should still be here with him. 

_With him._  

Those two words brought back a flood of memories he was not at all prepared for, and he fell onto the cold throne, no longer able to support himself or keep the tears at bay.

  
There was one image in his head now, one that haunted his dreams and stayed in the back of his head, always, always there: the boney, insolent, clumsy boy who turned out to be the most powerful person to walk the earth. The one person who knew Arthur better than he himself, and the one person that was able to break his walls and capture his heart completely. His memory was the worst of all because Arthur knew what should've happened. The stupid idiot would still be around if it wasn't for his complete trust in Arthur and all that talk of destiny.

  
They had been happy for a long time, looking back on it now. Arthur tried so hard to remember what it felt like to have the skinny fingers running through his hair, to feel the press of pale skin against tan in embraces overflowing with love. His memory was slipping; it had been so long.

  
In his dreams, he was with him again, although in the end it always ended the same way. Arthur failed to uphold his promise and Merlin died for him. The memories of love and laughter were slowly being poisoned by guilt and sorrow. He didn't want to keep going like this.

  
This is what his father always warned him of, he supposed. At the end of the day, he was still king and he had to keep going. It didn't do well to become attached. 

Arthur was never good at following advice. 

He let himself cry for what felt like ages. It felt nice to be able to just let go, to not have to keep up the charade. He'd never let himself cry in front of anyone except Merlin, and the closest thing he had to that now was an abandoned throne in an empty castle. 

  
Eventually his eyes ran dry and he rose stiffly to his feet. He turned sharply and walked back across the throneroom, looking as ever like the Once and Future King Merlin always called him. The only thing keeping him here was his last promise to Merlin that he would fullfil his destiny and become the great king he was meant to be. Most days he just wanted to give up, but the knowledge that he didn't have many days left was consolation enough. He would see his sorcerer again soon enough, but for now they remained separated by life and death.

  
Arthur walked out of the room and gave it one last look; he wouldn't be coming here again. The doors closed behind him for the last time with a thud, and Arthur walked away, his back towards the end of an era.

 


End file.
